


War Games

by LePetitMonstre



Category: Transformers: Beast Wars
Genre: BDSM, CHAPTER TWO;, Dinobot has feathers, F/M, Femdom, M/M, Other, Predator/Prey, Rape Roleplay, Sexual Roleplay, She/Her Dinobot, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, it shouldn't be too triggering bc Rattrap is being a bad actor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-22
Updated: 2020-07-20
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:29:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24630820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LePetitMonstre/pseuds/LePetitMonstre
Summary: "A little ass never hurt nobody.""Ha!" Dinobot adjusts his grip, slamming Rattrap against the wall again in the process.The rough treatment goes straight to Rattrap's crotch, and the new press of Dinobot's body against his only making it worse."Perhaps... We should test that theory."--Ch01 canon pronounsCh02 original edition with fem!Dinobot
Relationships: Dinobot/Rattrap
Comments: 2
Kudos: 18





	1. Chapter 1

Fur caught on screws and solder lines of the metal wall. Feet leaving the ground as Dinobot hauled Rattrap aloft by one hand on his throat. The absolute control Dinobot holds over him is thrilling. 

He snarls, an ugly, guttural sound from the back of his throat. "If you wanted to sneak past me, vermin, you should have considered masking your scent first." 

"I assumed a little wet fur wouldn't be so obvious around all this rotten meat, ya big buzzard." 

"Is that the best you can come up with? A proverbial pot vs kettle? And surely you must know what happens to those who assume..." 

"A little ass never hurt nobody." 

"Ha!" Dinobot adjusts his grip, slamming Rattrap against the wall again in the process. 

The rough treatment goes straight to Rattrap's crotch, and the new press of Dinobot's body against his only making it worse. 

"Perhaps... We should test that theory." 

Then Dinobot's teeth are on Rattrap's mouth and Dinobot can feel the fluttering beat of Rattrap's spark where their chests meet. In mock protest, Rattrap's little claws dig at Dinobot's feathered hide. Yet he kisses back as Dinobot's thick glossa fills his mouth, his own pressed down and grazing against the lower set of fangs that make up Dinobot's denta. Both have an odd assortment of teeth, a mouthful of canine-like points versus impressive incisors, but they make do. 

Deeply uncomfortable with dangling in Dinobot's grip, Rattrap wraps his legs over Dinobot's hips. Dinobot's free hand groping at Rattrap's backside, a single arm strong enough to support Rattrap completely, and he grinds their warming modesty plates together. A delighted growl vibrates within his chest as Rattrap squirms and gasps into his mouth, around his tongue, still trying to force itself down Rattrap's throat. 

Eventually, Dinobot pulls away. 

"What are you going to do to me?" Rattrap knows he's supposed to be playing scared but he's too hot, bothered, and breathless to be convincing. 

"Use your imagination, mouse. I'm going to make you scream." 

With no other warning, Dinobot pulls back and throws Rattrap onto the cot in the corner of the room. Leaving little time for an escape before Dinobot pounced onto the bed with him and straddles his hips. Dinobot is an impressive weight above him. His arms were as thick as Rattrap's waist, and before now Rattrap half expected to meet his end the day Dinobot caught up to him. But life and luck were tricky like that. 

Arms pinned above Rattrap's head with one hand, the other dragging a single claw down the center of his modesty panel. 

Rattrap opens it himself, spike already erect. 

"Already so eager. I hear a quick fuck is all you rodents are good for. I'd very much like to find out, despite your squirming." 

"Whatever am I to do?!" He cries, overdramatic to the point of satire. "This Predacon bastard will surely fuck me to death!" 

"Silence, vermin," Dinobot growls as he presses his free hand to Rattrap's throat. 

He lets go of Rattrap's wrists and leans back, allowing his own modesty plate to pull back. Pressing his valve lips along Rattrap's spike to prepare himself. 

It doesn't take long for Dinobot to generate enough slick to move forward. He lowers onto Rattrap, the first descent slow and steady. Relishing in the limited stretch and dull friction of Rattrap's smaller spike in his wide valve. 

"Oh fuck yes," Rattrap squeaks. But Dinobot levels him a dark look, demanding without speaking that Rattrap find his way back into character. 

"Hehe, I- I mean," Rattrap's hands are pulling at Dinobot's wrist and forearm, trying to relieve the weight against his throat. "Oh no?" 

Dinobot rolls his optics and rocks his hips up and down. 

"Please don't- _fuck me_..." 

Dinobot leans over him entirely, aquiline nose brushing against Rattrap's cheek. 

"What are ya gonna do- Ew! Stop that!" Rattrap squirms harder beneath him as Dinobot runs his tongue along the side of his face. 

The sight of his resistance adding to Dinobot's pleasure, inspiring Dinobot to increase the pace of his hips. "I would like to find out-" he huffs "-how your meat tastes." 

Rattrap's optics widen in horror. "You gotta be kidding me. Was that a dick joke or am I actually about to die? I can't tell anymore!" 

"Shut. Up." 

The friction and wet heat building charge, beginning to overwhelm Rattrap's other senses. "I'm gonna die." 

Above him, Dinobot arches his spine inward and thick thighs shiver on either side of Rattrap's hips; a sure sign he's getting close. 

Rattrap tries to help Dinobot along before he overheats from Dinobot's stranglehold on his windpipe. Giving up on pulling at Dinobot's forearm, Rattrap moves his hands further south to press on Dinobot's anterior node. A task made harder by the first warnings of his own overload addling his mind with unhelpful excitant and urgency. 

Dinobot comes with a trilling shriek. All of his feathers puffing out and the crest on his head flaring into a full mohawk. His valve squeezes tight around Rattrap's spike and the inner silicon trembles, sending Rattrap over the edge as well. 

When it's over and their actuators unclench, Dinobot falls onto the cot beside him. Cooling systems hissing somewhere within. 

Rattrap is first to speak (he always is). "You really enjoyed that, didn't you." It wasn't a question. 

"The thrill of the hunt. You wouldn't understand." 

"I think I do.”


	2. Director's Cut [fem!Dinobot]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This fic as originally written (only changes involve she/her pronouns for Dinobot)

Fur caught on screws and solder lines of the metal wall. Feet leaving the ground as Dinobot hauled Rattrap aloft by one hand on his throat. The absolute control Dinobot holds over him is thrilling. 

She snarls, an ugly, guttural sound from the back of her throat. "If you wanted to sneak past me, vermin, you should have considered masking your scent first." 

"I assumed a little wet fur wouldn't be so obvious around all this rotten meat, ya big buzzard." 

"Is that the best you can come up with? A proverbial pot vs kettle? And surely you must know what happens to those who assume..." 

"A little ass never hurt nobody." 

"Ha!" Dinobot adjusts her grip, slamming Rattrap against the wall again in the process. 

The rough treatment goes straight to Rattrap's crotch, and the new press of Dinobot's body against his only making it worse. 

"Perhaps... We should test that theory." 

Then Dinobot's teeth are on Rattrap's mouth and Dinobot can feel the fluttering beat of Rattrap's spark where their chests meet. In mock protest Rattrap's little claws dig at Dinobot's feathered hide, yet he kisses back as Dinobot's thick glossa fills his mouth, his own pressed down and grazing against the lower set of fangs that make up Dinobot's denta. Both have an odd assortment of teeth, a mouthful of canine-like points versus impressive incisors, but they make do. 

Deeply uncomfortable with dangling in Dinobot's grip, Rattrap wraps his legs over Dinobot's hips. Dinobot's free hand groping at Rattrap's backside, a single arm strong enough to support Rattrap completely, and she grinds their warming modesty plates together. A delighted growl vibrates within her chest as Rattrap squirms and gasps into her mouth, around her tongue, still trying to force itself down Rattrap's throat. 

Eventually, Dinobot pulls away. 

"What are you going to do to me?" Rattrap knows he's supposed to be playing scared but he's too hot, bothered, and breathless to be convincing. 

"Use your imagination, mouse. I'm going to make you scream." 

With no other warning, Dinobot pulls back and throws Rattrap onto the cot in the corner of the room. Leaving little time for an escape before Dinobot pounced onto the bed with him and straddles his hips. Dinobot is an impressive weight above him. Her arms were as thick as Rattrap's waist, and before now Rattrap half expected to meet his end the day Dinobot caught up to him. But life and luck were tricky like that. 

Arms pinned above Rattrap's head with one hand, the other dragging a single claw down the center of his modesty panel. 

Rattrap opens it himself, spike already erect. 

"Already so eager. I hear a quick fuck is all you rodents are good for. I'd very much like to find out, despite your squirming." 

"Whatever am I to do?!" He cries, overdramatic to the point of satire. "This Predacon bitch will surely fuck me to death!" 

"Silence, vermin," Dinobot growls as she presses her free hand to Rattrap's throat. 

She lets go of Rattrap's wrists and leans back, allowing her own modesty plate to pull back. Pressing her valve lips along Rattrap's spike to prepare herself. 

It doesn't take long for Dinobot to generate enough slick to move forward. She lowers onto Rattrap, the first descent slow and steady. Relishing in the limited stretch and dull friction of Rattrap's smaller spike in her wide valve. 

"Oh fuck yes," Rattrap squeaks. But Dinobot levels him a dark look, demanding without speaking that Rattrap find his way back into character. 

"Hehe, I- I mean," Rattrap's hands are pulling at Dinobot's wrist and forearm, trying to relieve the weight against his throat. "Oh no?" 

Dinobot rolls her optics and rocks her hips up and down. 

"Please don't- _fuck me_ …" 

Dinobot leans over him entirely, aquiline nose brushing against Rattrap's cheek. 

"What are ya gonna do- Ew! Stop that!" Rattrap squirms harder beneath her as Dinobot runs her tongue along the side of his face. 

The sight of his resistance adding to Dinobot's pleasure, inspiring Dinobot to increase the pace of her hips. "I would like to find out-" she huffs "-how your meat tastes." 

Rattrap's optics widen in horror. "You gotta be kidding me. Was that a dick joke or am I actually about to die? I can't tell anymore!" 

"Shut. Up." 

The friction and wet heat building charge, beginning to overwhelm Rattrap's other senses. "I'm gonna die." 

Above him, Dinobot arches her spine inward and thick thighs shiver on either side of Rattrap's hips; a sure sign she's getting close. 

Rattrap tries to help Dinobot along before he overheats from Dinobot's stranglehold on his windpipe. Giving up on pulling at Dinobot's forearm, Rattrap moves his hands further south to press on Dinobot's anterior node. A task made harder by the first warnings of his own overload addling his mind with unhelpful excitant and urgency. 

Dinobot comes with a trilling shriek. All of her feathers puffing out and the crest on her head flaring into a full mohawk. Her valve squeezes tight around Rattrap's spike and the inner silicon trembles, sending Rattrap over the edge as well. 

When it's over and their actuators unclench, Dinobot falls onto the cot beside him. Cooling systems hissing somewhere within. 

Rattrap is first to speak (he always is). "You really enjoyed that, didn't you." It wasn't a question. 

"The thrill of the hunt. You wouldn't understand." 

"I think I do.”


End file.
